Two Sides To Every Story
by Cielle2
Summary: An old friend of Nick's father has been murdered, and the clues left behind lead his daughter to San Francisco and to Nick. Something about her pulls at Nick, but is she exactly who she claims to be, or will he end up having to hunt her down?
1. Default Chapter

Two Sides to Every Story.  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
The sky boiled with dark clouds, and the heavy scent of salt and humidity hung in the air. The ocean was a froth of peaks and deep wells of valleys. The horizon was split open by a wild fork of lightning that resembled an upside down leafless tree. The crash of the ocean against the cliffs was loud with sprays reaching far above the head of the woman who stood just far enough back from the edge to not be harmed. Her arms were thrown out wide, and her face lifted to receive the first drops of rain. When the storm became too enraged, the rain a stinging sheet and the ocean's spray like reaching hands wanting to grab at her and draw her into its cold depths she turned and made her way back to the stone house further inland. She could not see it due to the rain and darkness, but she knew her way so well she could find the house with her eyes shut tight.  
  
It was one of the more modern and largest houses in the area. It had been in her family for two centuries. Always she had felt safe and warm here, welcomed and protected from the chaotic world outside. But not anymore, and it saddened her to know that she probably would never again feel that way here. Instead, as she made her way to the den/library, she felt violated, vulnerable, and lost.  
  
On the desk was a file, and she reached out a hand to snatch at it. The first page had a photo of her father, taken by the authorities when she'd come home one day to find him in his desk chair, his sightless eyes staring ahead as if right at her. She didn't need to glance at the photo to remember how he'd looked that day. The memory was burned into her brain forever.  
  
Flipping past that grotesque photo she found the page she was searching for, and her trembling chin lifted stubbornly. It was a letter, addressed to a Nick Boyle in care of the San Francisco House. She already had a flight booked. She'd find this Nick Boyle, and find out what it was her father had kept hidden from her. 


	2. A Meeting

CHAPTER 1  
  
Nick Boyle panted as he finished off the last mile of his run. He wasn't a Navy SEAL anymore, but that didn't mean he had to slack off. He enjoyed keeping in top form, following his ritualistic mornings of running and Tai Chi. To de-stress and relax he had a punching bag in his room he often took advantage of, and every now and then he returned to the water and did laps in the indoor pool. The team depended on him to help protect them, and to handle any security need that might arise. He couldn't do that if he let himself get soft.  
  
Coming around to the road that led to the castle-like house dubbed the Luna Foundation headquarters to the public he glanced back when he heard a vehicle coming up behind him. It was a cab, and he frowned as he quickened his pace in the hopes of seeing who had arrived, and why. The saying might say that curiosity had killed the cat, but he wasn't a feline so what did he have to worry about?  
  
A woman climbed out of the cab, and stared up at the house. She looked lost, and he neared her. "Hi. Can I, umm, help you?" he inquired. He was startled to see her eyes were amethyst colored, framed by the longest and darkest lashes he'd ever seen. They reminded him of wild violets.  
  
"I'm looking for Nick Boyle," she stated. "Could you direct me to him, please?" She had a soft Irish brogue.  
  
Startled and even more curious he reached for the towel he'd left by the door just for when he was done his run. "You're looking at him." One blue- black brow shot up in surprise at his declaration so he nodded. "I'm Nick Boyle. Why don't you come on inside, and you can tell me what this is all about?"  
  
Nodding she moved ahead of him when he motioned her to. He led the way to the kitchen, and held up the pot of coffee in a silent question. "Please." She tried to smile, but it was beyond her. She was tired, or rather more like exhausted in body and soul. The past week had been hectic and a drain emotionally. Reaching into a briefcase sized bag she pulled out the file and removed the letter from it. Placing it on the counter she saw him glance at it as he put a cup of coffee, some milk, and some sugar before her. "This is why I'm here."  
  
Nick saw the letter, and he leaned back against the other counter as he read it. A scowl knit his brows together, and he peered up at her. "I don't get it. How did you get this?"  
  
"Shaun O'Shea was my father. I found this under the desk the day I found him dead. He still held the pen he'd been writing it with."  
  
Nick watched her eyes fill with tears that she refused to shed in front of him. Her jaw tightened, and she gripped in one hand the single braid she had her long ebony hair twisted in. "So you're the daughter he wrote he wanted me to protect?" Shaking his head he put the letter on the counter. "Look, I don't know who your father was."  
  
"My father and your father had been friends when we were small children. They had worked together on a few cases, along with my mother. My father used to say that it had been the 'luck-o'-the-Irish' that had made mother marry him and not your father long ago." She leaned forward some. "He never told me what had him so afraid he would seek all the way to San Francisco and not to the Dublin House for help. Why would he write you, and not tell me what was going on?"  
  
"I don't know," Nick helplessly replied. "I never got any kind of communiqué from your father, or from the Dublin House at all. My father and I didn't have the closest of familial relationships so I'm not exactly surprised he failed to mention your father." Sighing he ran a hand over his face. "Okay, look. Give me some time to shower and ingest some caffeine so I can function somewhat like a normal human being, and then we can start looking into this."  
  
He suddenly realized that she had to know about the Legacy. "You said the Dublin House?" He didn't want to give too much away in case she wasn't a member.  
  
"My father refused to let me become a member of Legacy, but I knew about it. I helped him a few times, though in an 'unofficial' capacity." She glanced away, and sighed heavily. "Something had him worried, and I'm not sure what it was, but I know he didn't trust the Dublin House or he'd have turned to them."  
  
Made sense, and had him worried now too. "Okay, first we'll go see Derek, the precept of this house, and then we'll get to work. I gather by the luggage you have with you that you didn't find a place to stay yet."  
  
"No, I didn't. I wanted to find you first," she admitted.  
  
Nodding he set his coffee aside. "Alright. Let's go find Derek."  
  
.  
  
Derek Rayne looked up from the letter, a startled look on his face. "I hadn't heard of Shaun's death."  
  
"I haven't informed the Dublin House. As you can see by that letter I had reason not to trust them," she replied. They were in Derek's office, she in one of the comfortable chairs before it, Derek sitting behind it, and Nick lounging almost negligently against a side table's edge to her right.  
  
"Yes, that worries me." Derek scowled, re-reading the line that says Shaun O'Shea couldn't trust to turn to the Dublin House to help and protect his daughter. Which was why he was writing to the son of the man he'd once called friend. Raising his gaze to said younger man Derek scowled a little more darkly. "Nick?"  
  
Nick shrugged, pushing from the table. "No idea. My father never mentioned Shaun O'Shea. Not that we had any kind of a relationship where we confided in each other."  
  
Derek nodded. "Of course." His gaze swung to the lovely young woman sitting across from him. "I can contact the London House, discreetly find out what they know or suspect. I'm surprised your father mentioned the Legacy to you if he refused to let you become a member."  
  
"My mother died doing her duty for the Legacy. It was easier to tell me the truth than to make up a story and try to remember the lies, Mr. Rayne. I was fifteen, and intelligent enough to know nothing less would satisfy my curiosity. Besides, I'd seen her death in the cards, and when I went to my father it only reinforced a fear he'd had for days when she failed to report in."  
  
That got both men's attention. "In the cards?" Nick asked, one brow rising quizzically.  
  
"My mother came from a Celtic and Gypsy background. There were a few things she taught me as I grew up. Reading runes and the Tarot is part of that. Her talents as a witch had helped my father several times in his years with the Legacy."  
  
"Didn't think the Legacy would let a 'witch' into their midst," Nick grinned. It made his hazel eyes crinkle.  
  
"They don't," Derek replied. "It's believed that anyone who uses any skills or talents related to a pagan religion are too vulnerable to the dark side. If I remember correctly," he went on, rising from behind his desk, "your father left the Legacy when your mother passed away."  
  
"My mother didn't pass away, Mr. Rayne. She was killed by a Legacy member," she stated. Rising also to avoid the awkwardness of being the only seated person in the room she lifted her chin proudly, her eyes growing stormy. The memories of her mother's death were still raw, even after thirteen years. "A member learned of my mother's heritage and talents. They deemed her a danger, and demanded my father leave us. When he refused this same member sent someone to bring my mother in, and when she refused to leave us was believed to be in league with the dark side and was killed."  
  
Nick stared at her; amazed the Legacy would so casually kill a woman who refused to be parted from her family. Derek frowned, refusing to look away from her. He had never been a man to back down or show weakness if he could help it. There have been moments where a retreat was called for until he could gather his forces and attack anew, but those were tactics and not weakness. He remembered now hearing about Moira O'Shea's death at the hands of an overzealous member who had believed she was a witch in league with evil.  
  
A few moments later Nick was escorting her upstairs. Opening a door he stepped out of the way and let her enter first. "It's not much, but it's better than a hotel. Besides, if you're father was worried about your safety you'd be better off staying where I can keep an eye on you."  
  
"It's more than enough, thank you." She watched him put her bags on the double bed that graced one wall.  
  
He paused, peered at her over his shoulder. Amusement lit his eyes. "Your father never put your name in that letter, and we weren't exactly properly introduced."  
  
"In other words," she smiled, "what's my name?" She thrust her hand out to be shaken. "Aine Kellan Maeve O'Shea." Both of his brows shot up in amusement, and she shrugged. "My mother strongly believed that the name you gave a child, the meaning of said name that is, influenced their character. Aine was the name of a fairy queen, and it means brightness or radiance. Kellan means warrior princess, and Maeve means intoxicating one. My mother believed I was beautiful."  
  
He agreed with her mother. Aine had hair so dark it shone blue-black, eyes the color of bruised wild violets, skin the color of pink rose petals in cream, and lips a natural dark pink that reminded him of summer berries. Shaking himself mentally he made his way to the door, and paused again. "Hmmm. I wonder what my name means?"  
  
She headed for her bags, but was speaking to him. "If it's Nicholas it means the victory of the people. If your name is just Nick then it means belonging to the Lord. If you ask me either suits you."  
  
Nick was startled to actually feel the heat of a flush rise in his face. He had honestly believed himself too jaded to ever commit the normal affliction of blushing. But there was something about Aine Kellan Maeve O'Shea that put him off his guard, and he wasn't sure he liked that fact. Nodding he left, shutting the door behind him. Time to go shower, and he decided he'd make it a little on the cool side.  
  
.  
  
The familiar face on the screen was now tight with tension and suspicion. William Sloan's long face was pinched as he leaned forward and filled the vid-screen. "Derek, word just reached us of Shaun's murder. His daughter is missing, and we are now searching for her."  
  
Startled Derek blinked, but kept his calm otherwise. "A search for her? Why? You don't suspect her of killing her own father, do you?"  
  
"We're not ruling anything out, Derek. After all, her mother was a reputed witch who turned to the dark side," Sloan replied.  
  
"That was conjecture, wasn't it? A literal witch-hunt where there was no proof of her being evil. Nothing says the daughter is either is there?" Derek was beginning to worry now. Had Shaun O'Shea's daughter lied to them? It wasn't uncommon for someone to try to destroy the Legacy from within.  
  
"The locals say she followed in her mother's footsteps in her choice of religious beliefs and practices. You know how people are. There are always those ready to defend, and those ready to condemn." Sloan paused, his eyes narrowing speculatively. "Is Aine O'Shea in San Francisco, Derek?"  
  
A prickling of warning made Derek smile and shake his head. "Not that I know of." It was true. He didn't know the name of Shaun's daughter so he couldn't say if it was she or not. Not exactly a full lie, but more of a twisting of words.  
  
"If she contacts you let me know," Sloan ordered.  
  
Derek's brows lifted into the unruly fall of his hair over his forehead. "You believe she'd have reason to contact us?"  
  
"Nothing would surprise me anymore about anything," Sloan admitted. "If there's one thing you should know by now, Derek, it's that anything is possible. You'll keep me informed?"  
  
"Of course," Derek agreed. After terminating the connection he sat back and turned deeply inwards with his thoughts. Something was warning him not to confide in Sloan. Which was surprising since they'd known each other for decades. Perhaps it was time he had a more in-depth discussion with their lovely guest. 


	3. A Matter of Trust

CHAPTER 2  
  
Aine faced the five people who sat at the long table in the library. Derek was at one end of the table, and Nick was to his left. Beside Nick was a blond woman, young and pretty, who eyed Aine with distrust. Across from them were two other women: one with café-au-lait skin and curly dark hair, and the other blond and older. All of them but Nick watched her every move, but the young male was toying with the yellow file folder in front of him. Derek had handed out copies of the file she had provided him with.  
  
In a way she couldn't fault their wariness. That emotion had probably saved countless lives faced with the things they'd braved and battled. She'd be suspicious of herself also was she one of them. But she was not one of them, and that fact was never made plainer that at this very moment as they all drilled her with identical frowns. All but the handsome Nick who glanced up every now and then, but preferred to keep his gaze on the file.  
  
"Mr. Rayne, I never had any dealings with the Legacy. I was fifteen when my mother was hunted down and killed. Quite frankly I felt no reason to even consider joining an elite group who had decided my mother was evil and to destroy her. I came here only because of that letter I found under my father's desk when I found him dead."  
  
"How could the killer miss seeing it?" Kristin Adams demanded, her lips twisting in a disbelieving smirk.  
  
Aine levelly met her gaze. "When I saw my father I collapsed to my knees and cried. I saw paper between his feet, and reached out to take it. When I saw what it was I kept it from the authorities. I had no reason to harm the only parent I had left, the person who had loved and protected me my whole life."  
  
"Where were you before you found him?" Alex Moreau asked, not quite able to pull off the casual inquisitiveness she was attempting.  
  
"My father and I were at a local celebration when he left early. I have several witnesses that I did not leave until very late," she announced. "Would you like a list of names?"  
  
"Sounds good," Kristin gave a small and cool smile. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you didn't do it. Maybe Tarot and Runes reading aren't the only skills your mother taught you."  
  
Aine stiffened, her eyes darkening in anger, and her lips a thin and tight line. "My mother was not in league with the dark side. She was a good woman who followed the faiths of her ancestors and who helped the locals when they were ill or hurt. She helped my father countless times to battle the evil you accuse her of being. She passed on her skills to me because the oldest females in each family have the calling. It is our heritage, and for your information many of my ancestors protected their families and communities from the evils the Legacy hunt. When it suits them they even turn to us for help, but otherwise I guess we are branded evil because we are different. The witch-hunts never stopped, did it? They were only discreetly carried out and justified by people like you."  
  
Rachel Corrigan, psychologist and oft-times referee, held up a hand. Her voice was soothing and professional. "We're not accusing you, Aine."  
  
"Are you not?" Aine waved hand towards the blond Kristin. "Maybe you should tell her that. It sounded like a clear accusation to me. Maybe my father was right, and the Legacy could not be trusted. I should have remained in Ireland and done this on my own." She rose with a heavy sigh. "My mistake for thinking the one person he believed he could trust I could also."  
  
Nick's head snapped up, and he shook his head. "Whoa, wait a minute. I never accused you of anything. If you ask around I don't often agree with the rest of my colleagues. We've clashed a few times, truth be known." He ignored the annoyed glare Kristin shot him. He had never liked her much anyway. She'd shown up here months ago with a large chip on her shoulder, and an attitude to match. He could tolerate her, but he doubted he would ever trust her to watch his back. That kind of trust was built over time, and he had it with Alex, Rachel, and Derek. Hell, he'd even trust Philip, if that one were still a member. But Kristin hadn't won that kind of trust from him yet.  
  
His gaze was level, sincere, and she nodded. "I did not kill my father. I do not know who did, but I'll find out."  
  
Nick nodded. "I'll cancel my plans for the next few days."  
  
"Good." Derek gave an abrupt nod, and rose. "I want to keep the rest of the Legacy Houses out of the loop about Aine's whereabouts. For the moment," he amended when he saw Kristin and Alex ready to argue. "Nick, I don't want to take Shaun's fears lightly. For that reason I want you to watch over her."  
  
Aine saw Nick nod, and she kept silent on the decision. Something about Nick Boyle made her feel she could trust him. "I'll begin that list for you," she told Derek. Ignoring Kristin she faced Rachel. "Did you want to take a sample of blood for DNA?"  
  
Rachel blinked, startled, but shrugged. "Actually, that wouldn't be such a bad idea."  
  
Nick stood and gathered the file he'd been toying with earlier as the others left the room. Almost all the others, he realized, as he felt glared at. He faced Kristin. "Problem?"  
  
"Yeah," she nodded. "Aren't you the one who's always preaching about being careful and not to trust too quickly? Or is it your libido making the decisions for you this time?"  
  
A small smirk tugged one corner of his lips up, but his eyes were cool. "My libido is none of your business. I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character."  
  
"You didn't trust me when we met," she stated.  
  
"Like I said, I'm a pretty good judge of character." He moved by her, glad he'd gotten the last word on that one. He often followed his gut, and it was rarely wrong. The other team members had learned to also trust his judgment. Something about Aine made him believe her, and he didn't think sexual awareness was influencing him. He was a trained soldier, a trained killer, and he was pretty positive that he could make educated decisions without letting a rise in his interest take precedence.  
  
.  
  
"The handwriting matches," Alex announced after a previous sample of Shaun O'Shea's writing was compared to the letter Aine had given them. "I also found something interesting."  
  
"Really?" Derek arched one brow in interest.  
  
"Some kind of residue on the letter. I'm not sure yet what it is, but I took a scraping of it, and we should get some results in a while."  
  
She didn't leave yet so Derek knew she had something on her mind she wanted to discuss. "Anything else?" he asked, giving her an opening.  
  
"I'm concerned about Nick. He's not thinking clearly. It's as if he's letting a pretty face blind him. I don't know, Derek. Maybe the Legacy has a reason to mistrust Aine." There was earnestness to her face, an edge to her voice. "The last time Nick fell for a girl he nearly got turned into an incubus."  
  
There was that, silently admitted Derek. "The difference this time being that they are here where we can all keep an eye on them."  
  
Her lips thinned a moment. "So you're not worried at all? You believe her?"  
  
Startled he stared at her. "So far I have no reason to disbelieve her."  
  
"Maybe she has all the males in this house under a spell," Alex griped.  
  
Derek scowled. "I would have thought you'd be a little more tolerant, Alex. Wild accusations nearly got Nick and I killed." She looked down, chastised a little. "Are you telling me that Rachel and Kristin have already set the sentence on our guest?"  
  
"No," she replied. Feeling like a child who'd been chastised by a father she turned and left his office. He was right. Nothing yet proved that Aine was a danger to them, but it didn't mean she wouldn't keep an eye on her. 


	4. Nick and Aine

CHAPTER 3  
  
A noise caught her attention, and Aine moved towards it, finding Nick practicing tai chi by himself in a clearing. She hated to admit it, but watching him was a pleasure. There was a predatory grace to the way he moved, and she could tell he was restraining himself. That meant he was very disciplined. He knew when he had to hold himself back, and probably enjoyed letting go on the occasions when he could. She wondered if that applied to all aspects of his life?  
  
Nick knew someone was nearby, watching him. His naval training had taught him to always be aware of his surroundings, and to respect that gut feeling that told you something was wrong, or someone had you tagged. It saved your life. The trick, though, was to make the one watching you unaware that you knew about them. Continue what you're doing, look for all the world like they have the upper hand, and then steal their element of surprise. Surprise could mean the difference between success and failure.  
  
Aine stepped into the clearing. "It's only me," she told him, finding a spot to sit on the grass next to his towel and gray zip-up sweatshirt. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare from behind the bushes. I thought only I was up at this early hour."  
  
She'd managed to surprise him, but only because he hadn't been aware he'd set off signs that he knew she was near. "What makes you think I was worried anyone was watching?"  
  
"The atmosphere changed. I felt you tense and ready yourself to face a threat." She tossed his towel to him since he seemed to be done with his workout now. "In Ireland I normally walk by the cliffs every morning and evening. My way of commuting with nature."  
  
He couldn't help the small derisive smirk that curled one corner of his lips up. "You commute with nature?"  
  
For some reason his derision bothered her. "Yes, I do. Somewhat the same way you do when you become aware of your surroundings. Only I listen to the wind, and to the whispers of every living thing."  
  
"What's that tree saying?" he quipped, nodding to the big oak behind him.  
  
Rising she glowered at him, her chin rising proudly. "That Alex is on her way here."  
  
Nick watched her storm off, amusement lighting his hazel eyes until he heard his name being called behind him. Turning he was startled to see Alex making her way past that big oak and towards him. "Did Aine know you were coming here?"  
  
Alex halted, wariness stiffening her whole body. "No, why? I don't think she even knew I was awake. What's wrong?"  
  
Nick turned back towards the path Aine had taken, his eyes narrowing. In his years with the Legacy he'd battled many things, seen many things, and yet he still questioned the validity of most of it. Philip had once said that he had no respect for the forces he faced, and perhaps he had a point. Respecting evil gave it power over him. Not that he underestimated evil. There was a reason it was called evil. The lure and power of it was strong, and many succumbed. But Nick never would because he had respect for himself, and for the fight to save the innocents.  
  
"Nothing wrong," Nick replied though he decided now that he and Aine needed to have a talk. He wasn't certain who she was, but he meant to find out.  
  
. She was here. There were still lingering traces of her essence, though they were fading quickly. But it was enough to know she had been here, and recently. Now to find her trail, and follow it, but it was difficult with the stench of the mortals clouding it. Mortals, who tried to mask their scent with all manner of lotions and colognes and sprays, but who would never be able to cover that essence that was each of them. Each mortal had a distinctive extra to the scent they all shared, a kind of fingerprint to tell each apart if you already knew the scent you were after. Those with any kind of power whatsoever ~~ such as psychic or magical ones ~~ had a strong and distinctive tang to their scent, like spices added to a sauce to give it that certain something more.  
  
Her trail led outside of the airport, and it didn't bother with a cab like everyone else did. It would move faster without that encumbrance. Not to mention the fact it could follow the sudden changes in her trail more easily if it was on foot. Which had been a wise decision because the witch had often backtracked and taken sudden turns. She knew she would be hunted. O'Shea had been an intelligent man, and it wasn't unreasonable to assume his daughter was also intelligent. Her mother had been a crafty and smart also. But not smart enough. It had caught her, and ended her evil ways. It had ended O'Shea's life, and thus his cycle of protecting and harboring evil witches. Now it would find the daughter, and finish her as well.  
  
.  
  
It had taken a while, but Nick found Aine standing near the edge of the cliffs, her arms out wide and her face lifted to the sky. For a moment he could only hang back and watch her, and wonder what the hell she was doing. She never moved, so when she calmly said, "Hello, Nick," he blinked, mentally shaking the cobwebs off. Was he losing his edge, or was she that good?  
  
Not wanting to let her keep him off balance he moved closer, but not within her reach. "We need to talk, Aine."  
  
The day had been a hot one with no breeze to even stir the air, but at that moment one lifted and warmly caressed skin and rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. Her arms lowered as she turned to face him. "Will it ease your mind? Will you believe me if I tell you I'm not evil, and I'm not here to harm anyone?"  
  
Cocking his head to one side he eyed her intently. "Try me, I might."  
  
Taking a step nearer she never deviated her gaze from his. "I'm not evil, Nick, and I'm not here to harm anyone. I want to know who killed my father, why, and stop them. I came here because my father felt he could trust you over the House he had once belonged to. Would you have done any different?"  
  
"I'm Legacy, you're not. It tends to make eyebrows raise when you know about us, practice pagan ways, and left Ireland after your father was buried." He wasn't sorry for the abrupt way he was speaking. He didn't much like to beat around the bushes. It was a waste of precious time.  
  
Her chin lifted, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. Inhaling deeply she nodded. "Fair enough. If it's impossible to believe or trust me then maybe I should leave."  
  
"Your choice," he shrugged. "You can't expect us to just blindly hand over trust. We never would have survived this long."  
  
"I'm not asking you to blindly hand over trust," she shot, waving a dismissing hand. "Never mind. I do understand, but so far everyone is looking into my background, and no one is trying to figure out who the killer is."  
  
"Answers don't come to you overnight," he snorted. "It can take time."  
  
"But is an effort being made?" she demanded. "Is anyone trying, or are they just following me and watching me to see who I try to kill next?"  
  
Her Irish accent thickened with her emotions, and her eyes were darker, stormier. Nick decided she looked amazing at this moment with her hair loose and falling to the center of her back in blue-black waves and her eyes looking like wild violets after a heavy rain. "We have to be careful about probing with the London House intent on finding you."  
  
"I have no idea why they want to find me, Nick. I swear by all the Gods and Goddesses, I have no idea."  
  
He believed her. "Okay. Let's go up to the house, and you can tell me about the day you found your father. Maybe we can find some clue that will lead us to his killer." She visibly relaxed and nodded, and moved towards him.  
  
The bullet ricocheted off the rocky outcropping behind her, and harmlessly away. Nick dove, taking her down and covering her with his body. In one swift move he had his revolver out, and was aiming it at the trees and bushes around their little cleared cliff area. Dimly he became aware of Aine muttering, and the words registered when he felt a tingling rush over his body. A bullet bounced off an invisible shield surrounding them, and then a few more bullets harmlessly fell away. The whole time they were being shot at he was aiming the revolver, trying to find where the bullets were originating from, but he was having no luck.  
  
"This is the time when tracers would come in very handy," he quipped. Glancing down at her his eyes raked over her face. "You okay?"  
  
"As okay as can be expected for someone who was being shot at," she quavered.  
  
She sounded weak, and tired. "Are you sure you're okay?" Worriedly he ran his hands over her arms and moved back to check her legs. "I tackled you pretty hard." No broken bones that he could feel.  
  
"Casting always takes something out of me," she admitted. "I need a moment to regain my energy. I've never tried to cast a shield before, and hold it for so long."  
  
Rising he helped her up. He was convinced now that she hadn't killed her father. "Was your father shot?"  
  
"Yes, actually, he was." Peering up at him she shivered. "Nick, someone just tried to kill me. First my mother, and then my father, and now someone is after me. I'm beginning to feel someone has a grudge against the O'Shea clan."  
  
"I have to agree with you," he gave the surroundings a final dark scowling stare. "C'mon, I'd feel a lot better if you were safe in the house."  
  
"Nick? Thanks," she whispered. 


End file.
